It's blowing like stink!

Well, what did I expect? It's Baja, after all. We have had some rollicking times on the high seas. The day we launched, we decided to take off as well. That meant a lot of slam-bam rigging, accompanied by bruised knees and cuts and scrapes incurred while stepping the masts and tying down the load in a fair chop. As I started to rig the mainsail, I dropped the jaws of the gunter into the ocean. That was good. Luckily, the water was only about 5 ft deep and we were able to fish it out. A screw had worked its way loose on the drive down, allowing the jaws to drop off. Once we were loaded and ready to go, the sun was about to set. We were embarking onto unknown waters, but with the assurances of some people we had consulted, we set off for Puerto Don Juan about 9 miles away across the bay. We got there in the dark, with a half moon above. We stayed on the boat that night, listening to the coyotes howling on shore. In the morning, we got a real coyote show as they chased one another along the beach and hunted fish in the surf.

Day before yesterday, we camped under the volcano on Isla Coronado. Tim hiked to the top (a real doozy of a hike, he said) and took this photo of a lagoon south of the volcano.

Yesterday, we sailed back to the peninsula from the islands, hoping to get to Bahia de Los Angeles to resupply. The west winds were intense, however. Faced with a steep chop and wind in our teeth, we turned around and found a sweet camp in the lee of a rocky cliff, where we camped the night on a gravel beach. When I woke to the sunrise, I told Tim, "I like this 5 star hotel we're staying in!" That's where we saw the seagull and the cloud.

Bahia de Los Angeles is a town of about 1000 people. It's way off the beaten track. Especially this time of year, which is early for sailors to be here. It's because of the westerly winds that are typical in this season. We have seen practically no other sailors. Only one 16 ft Hobie Cat. Those people are crazier than we are. They started in San Felipe and were headed to La Paz. A friend we made here, John, said he wasn't convinced they were equal to the conditions. I hope WE are!

We are certainly happy about having a larger gas tank this year. The crossings between islands, and from peninsula to islands, are long and conditions not predictable. I'm glad we have the gas in case the winds fail us. Sometimes we have had wind, just not the RIGHT wind.  At some point, you just have to take what you're dealt and make it work--sails, motor, oars, whatever works.

We met some fishermen on Isla Angel de la Guarda (which is back of beyond). We were happy to see some other human beings. They were out there diving for sea cucumber, which they sell to the Chinese. They shared ceviche with us (fish, lime, and tomato) and scallops, extracted from the shells right on the beach in front of us. We shared a lot of laughs with them, and learned a lot about they way they live and how they fish. They dive with a breathing tube connected to a compressor. Nothing fancy like SNUBA. More than likely, they are using an old refrigerator compressor and a garden hose. Tim has said several times, thinking of the roaring wind, the 57 degree water, and the diving equipment, "I don't envy them that job." It's kind of ridiculous that we are out here doing what they do, minus the fishing, for fun. They must think we are cracked.

Bahia de los Angeles!

I'm posting this from what appears to be a toy store in Bay of LA. The connection is super slow so I can't write much, or post photos. We arrived a couple hours ago. The wind is whipping! Am I surprised? It's been blowing the whole way down here. We stayed last night near Catavinya, an area of huge granite boulders not unlike Joshua Tree National Monument except that there are cardons and boojums and other odd species of cacti endemic to Baja. We threw the bags on the ground, after sandwiches, beer, and biscotti with chocolate-covered raisins. The light at sunset was magnificent, glowing for a long time first in the western sky and then in the eastern sky. This morning, we got coffee from the hotel (the one where we stayed last year). The waiter had to ask all the other employees in the hotel for pesos to make change for my 100 peso bill.

The drive from there to here was a cinch, though most of the road allowed us to go only 35 mph because of the all the patched potholes. The road from the turn-off to Bay of LA was the best piece of road we've seen. Smooth sailing! And the geology. OMG! If I were looking for a PhD project, I'd have found it. I think I am seeing the 12 million year old tuff I mapped in my own thesis field area well to the north of here. Joann (my thesis advisor) saw this tuff out on Isla Angel de la Guarda, which we can see from our camp. The original deposit was torn apart and separated along various faults when the Gulf began rifting not long after the tuff was deposited. Tim asked if I could pick up a piece of it and know it was the same tuff. No, not with any degree of confidence. But the relationships look right. Maybe next year we'll rent a house here and I can map to my heart's content. Pete? Want to rent a house with us?

So Valdesca has made it to the sea! We aren't going to launch today as the anchorage would be dodgy with all this wind blowing straight into the bay. Tim doesn't relish doing Sea Hunt just yet.

En route!

Yesterday we crossed the border at Mexicali. We had spent the night in the desert near Yuma. It was blowing a bit as we set up to go to bed. So we decided to try sleeping in the Nissan. Not in the boat under the tarp. Never again. Tim thought we could just lay our paco pads over top of all the stuff and slide in on top. I was dubious as the remaining vacant area was all of about a foot, kind of too much like a sarcophagus. But I bravely tried it out. And got stuck half way in. And then had to swivel around, the whole time hollering, "This isn't going to work! This isn't enough room!" Then I started to get claustrophobic. I opened the side door of the car and tried to slide out but figured I'd break my neck if my feet slipped when they hit the ground, since I was face up. I hollered for Tim to help me. Well, if he didn't take his time... He grabbed my legs and dragged me out. Whew! That was bad!

So I started hauling all the stuff out of the car to make room for us. But pretty soon we uncovered the folded seat backs and Tim remembered why he doesn't like sleeping in the Nissan. It's too short. He suggested we just sleep in the lee of the vehicle, on the desert pavement. OK, that was the winner concept. We had to stake down the groundcloth, though, so it wouldn't blow away. And I looped my crocs over my rock hammer, for the same reason.

Well, everything was more or less OK until the wind changed direction and amped up a good bit. It blew like stink all night long. I kept flipping over because of the hard surface, and having to scooch my sleeping bag and liner around to keep the warmth on top of me. And I had the cord yanked tight around my face so I just had a little round window. Oy, it was pretty miserable. I was hugging the dry box to stay in its lee. We got up early (no kidding) and realized it was a full on Baja norther. Oh boy! Whose idea was this?

We shot for the border, past all those sand dunes at Imperial Dunes Recreational Area, thinking, "That's where all the sand went from the desert pavement WE were camped on!" We crossed the border in Mexicali, at the OLD border crossing downtown. It still exists. Last year, I guess we crossed at the new truck crossing. The only problem was we couldn't find that Starbucks! And we were in desperate need of caffeine, especially to make it over La Rumorosa, the incredibly steep road that goes over the mountains to Tijuana. We didn't see anything resembling a decent cafe. Lots of car dealerships, tire repair shops, Sam's Club, a spiffy new Burger King, malls, Chinese restaurants, the whole border town deal. But no coffee. With great foresight, I had stocked up on Trader Joe's cafe lattes in the can. You can say, "Gross!" But when you need coffee, they taste pretty dang good. So we stopped by the side of the road, and I rummaged around in the food boxes for the 'Power Shots' as we call them. Coffee with Aunt Rose's nussenkipfle left over from Christmas. Can't get much better than that. And handfuls of my homemade granola. That kept us going all the way across Laguna Salada and up La Rumorosa.

We got to Tecate, on the toll road, scrambling around to find enough pesos and dollars to pay the tolls. We didn't have much cash on hand. I had to use my Sacajawea dollar I was saving... We had some beta on the Tecate crossing that said there were traffic delays due to construction. But we didn't get the implication that the problem was south of Tecate on Mexico 3 that goes to Ensenada. So I happily suggested we take that road, and Tim happily assented. We set off down Mexico 3 and promptly ran into a detour that took us down an incredibly steep hairpin a gravel truck was straining to get up. A couple of detours later we realized, "Uh oh. This is the construction they were warning us about." We had decided to spend the night in Ensenada because you can either stay there or a LOT farther south in San Quintin, after climbing up and over some more mountains. Tim said, "At least we have the whole day to get to Ensenada." Well, it didn't take that long. And we did get to see some sights. A road crew cutting the grass at the side of the ride with machetes. Another crew shoveling dirt into 5 gallon buckets. A guy filling a cut-off coke bottle with gravel. Huh? This is a highway project? In all fairness, they did have big equipment on the job, too. But it was as if they had all these extra guys who wanted jobs so they told them, "Bring your equipment and come help!" If it's only a machete, you can cut the grass!

We got to Ensenada in the early afternoon. We were kind of trashed after the miserable night before. We checked into Hotel Mision Santa Isabel, where they have guarded parking behind the hotel. Walked the malecon, but couldn't find the sea lions we saw there last year. We stopped at a little restaurant by the water and had fish tacos. They served us four kinds of salsa: jalapeno, chile de arbol, avocado, and mayonnaise. Later we realized they hadn't served us (gringos that we are) the habanero chile salsa. It had the look of melon sherbet. I probably would have scooped a big wad onto my taco. The waitress said, "That's REALLY HOT!" They saved me from myself.

Now we are sipping coffee in a pleasant little internet cafe (using the neighbor's wifi connection, by the admission of the cafe's owner, who is wearing a jaunty blue beret). The connection is slow so I can't upload photos. He should complain to his neighbor. We are leaving now for points south. More updates as we go.

No such thing as a free lunch

You can wait to leave home until you have all the details wired. Or you can take off when most everything is done but there are still a few loose threads. We did the latter this time. Tim discovered--by accident--that the pinion gear, a part of the rewind starter on the outboard motor, had a crack in it. It might have been that way for months or years. And it might stay that way for months or years. Or it might bust the day we launch Valdesca into the Bay of Los Angeles. We decided to replace the pinion gear, but locating one to buy was an issue. I ordered one from an outfit on the east coast, to be delivered to Tucson by FedEx second-day air. It would get to Tucson on Saturday, the same day we arrived. No sweat.

We also needed a fitting to connect the new gas tank to the fuel line. I ordered one of those from amazon, and had it shipped to our home address.

We are also waiting on a new plastic chart case. After waiting days for it to arrive at home, I decided maybe I never really ordered it. So I ordered it again, this time to be delivered in Tucson.

Where do we stand? I ordered the wrong part for the gas tank. We found the right part today in Tucson.

The pinion gear didn't arrive on Saturday. The company decided to ship it by regular mail. Today, I found a message in my inbox that said I owed them $6.95 for shipping. I called them and asked about it. Today is Monday, right? They still haven't shipped the pinion gear. I have to pay first. Oy! We found a marina here in Tucson that could get one by tomorrow; shipping costs twice as much as the part.

The chart case? No idea. Landfall Navigation charged me for the chart case and the priority shipping. No chart case. No message saying why.

It bears mentioning that I am the designated logistics sergeant of this trip (of all our trips). Tim has many gifts (many of which make these trips possible at all), but ordering stuff over the internet is not in his skill set. Other than the few loose threads I knew about, I thought we were ready to go. Yesterday, though, Tim said, "I think we may want to consider new tires for the trailer. The old ones are wearing unevenly." Visions of blowing a tire on Mexico 1... What happens to the boat when you blow a tire? Bad scene. So when we went over to Oasis Marine to order the pinion gear, we asked Tom about a place to get new trailer tires. Right down the road! OK, we'll go there next. "One more question," Tim said. "Do you think we can get a spare set of bearings there, too? It would be a bummer to overheat the bearings out in the middle of no place." Tom said, "Sure thing. Best prices around." Then Tim said, "Oh, one more question. Do you have a shear pin for a propeller? It would be good to have a spare." Cripe, I'm thinking, I didn't know about any of this stuff. And then, "When we stop by tomorrow, we should have you put in a new fuel filter, too." No end in sight.

Hey! The dogs are barking! It's...it's...the UPS man! With the waterproof chart case!

Rollin', rollin', rollin', rawhide!

On Saturday, we started off from Santa Fe after an arctic freeze froze pipes and shut down gas lines all over New Mexico as temperatures plunged to -16 degrees. Neither of us wanted to load the boat in such cold weather. Day time temperatures were only 10 degrees for a couple days. There is so much tying down, requiring nimble fingers, we decided to wait until it warmed up again. Finally, on Friday, temperatures were in the high 20s and we got after it, loading and tying down in the course of the afternoon. So as not to repeat one of last year's mishaps, I CAREFULLY opened the car door to keep from breaking off the door handle. We rolled out the driveway at 9 AM Saturday, Tucson or bust.

Valdesca's on the move

The drive to Tucson is an easy 9 hours towing the boat, except that all the highway rest stops in New Mexico were closed due to frozen pipes. We pulled into Tucson at dark, exactly as planned. Coincidentally, we arrived right as Leo was doing the last steps in preparing his magnificent 40-clove garlic chicken. Chicken with roasted potatoes, salad, and red wine helped us settle into the new temperature regime--about 60 degrees warmer than New Mexico. We also had a good dose of cheesecake, which our house sitter Lori had made for my birthday. Duane (Lori's husband) had insisted we take it with us because he didn't want to eat it himself. Oh well! So now it's gone. We can get on with our lives.

Dinner in Tucson

On Sunday, Leo had more cooking to do. He and Leslie were invited to a Superbowl party and had decided to take 'golabki' (ga-WUMP-key), a stuffed cabbage dish beloved to Pennsylvanians. Apparently, it was a hit, though Tim and I stayed home and watched the Superbowl with the sound off. I read half of Steinbeck's 'The Pearl' in the time it took for the Packers to win. That, BTW, was the first Superbowl I have ever (sort of) watched.

Leo's golabki

Around noon, Leo had put the golabki in the oven, set the timer for two hours, and we drove out to Saguaro National Park for a hike. The day was gorgeous, sunny and warm, T-shirt weather. We stopped for sandwiches and ice tea, packed them in a backpack, and set off on a nice flat trail through the desert, surrounded on all sides by mesquite, palos verdes, prickly pear, cholla, and saguaros. In the course of our hike, we saw some curious sites.

First off, we saw an inordinate number of purple chollas and prickly pear. None of us knew whether the purple cactus were different varieties from the green ones. Google told me that this coloration is due to cold. While we had below-zero temperatures, it got down to 19 degrees in Tucson, an historic low. Most of the staghorn, buckhorn, and pencil cholla were bright purple yesterday. The Latin name of staghorn cholla is Opuntia versicolor, which apparently has a tendency to turn purple in the cold. Prickly pears in the park, and all over Tucson, are variegated green and purple right now. There is a purple prickly pear, Opuntia violaceae (var. Santa Rita), that is native to the Sonoran desert. The large leaf pads develop a purple tinge in the cool, dry winter months. So it appears that there are purple varieties of these cacti but their coloration is enhanced by cold temperatures.

Purple cane cholla

Saguaros sometimes grow in odd or misshapen forms. The growing tip occasionally produces a fan-like form or crest. Though these crested saguaros are somewhat rare, over 25 have been found within the boundaries of Saguaro National Park. Biologists disagree as to why some saguaros develop a crest. It may be a genetic mutation or the result of a lightning strike or freeze damage.

Crested saguaro

How do they do that?

Here are a few more photos of our hike.

Saguaro National Park w/ Catalina Mtns in background

Barrel cactus

Tim, Leslie, & Leo

Wren nest in palo verde (w/feathers)

Inner structure of a prickly pear

Frost-blackened tips of a cactus in Tucson